


lady stardust

by openended



Category: Private Practice
Genre: Afterlife, Gen, Metafiction, Series Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 13:36:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/openended/pseuds/openended
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>couldn't wash the echoes out</i> (it's time to move on)</p>
            </blockquote>





	lady stardust

She’s mid-laugh, Henry perched safely on her hip, when everything fades. She blinks, her eyes trying to adjust to the darkness. She panics and holds tight to Henry, every possible awful scenario running circles through her head. But the darkness lifts as quickly as it appears and she’s standing in the reception area instead of her deck. The practice is abandoned, eerily silent, though the lights are on and the television’s running muted CNN.

“Hello?” She calls out. Her voice doesn’t quite echo, though it reflects the emptiness. Henry fusses and she shifts him to her other hip. “Anybody?” When no one answers, she pokes her head in the offices and exam rooms. They look exactly like she left them when she went home the other night; computers asleep, pillows slightly askew, charts neatly stacked and organized, equipment put away. Cooper’s left his desk light on, so she turns it off.

“Hello, Addison.”

She turns at the sound of Amelia’s voice, finding her friend standing in the middle of the practice, hands in her pockets. “Amelia, what’s going on?” She’s wearing all black, but it’s soft on her, not harsh.

Amelia stands silent and tilts her head. “You really don’t know?”

“One minute I’m standing on my deck with Jake, everything goes dark and now I’m here and…I passed out,” she concludes, remembering a half-forgotten medical school lecture, “this is my consciousness staying active, trying to wake up.”

Amelia smiles and shakes her head. “Close, but not really.”

She’s made the trip from panic to calm rationality back to panic again and feels herself on the verge of a total freakout if she doesn’t find out what the hell is going on in the next ten seconds. “Amelia.” She intends for the name to be hard, a half-frustrated demand, but her voice wavers on the second syllable. Henry settles his head against her shoulder and she splays her hand on his back, feeling like he’s the only solid thing around.

Amelia glances at the TV. The playback skips and turns to static before showing footage of a burning building. 

_SEATTLE HOSPITAL BOMB EXPLOSION_ , the headline reads, _fatalities still unknown_. Addison squints at the closed-captioning. The volume turns up and she jumps, startled by the sudden voice.

_“…believed to be an undetonated homemade bazooka ordinance. An avid war re-enacter, the patient was brought to Seattle Grace Hospital for treatment, where the hospital was put on lockdown and the bomb squad called. It is unknown yet how many, if any, fatalities occurred as a result of the explosion.”_

“This happened years ago,” Addison says as the field anchor throws the broadcast back to the studio and Wolf Blitzer, “I don’t understand.” She stares at the images of the hospital, reconciling the damage she sees on the television with what she remembers happening.

“You’re a very smart woman, Addison.”

She frowns, feeling something she needs to grasp just out of reach. “It didn’t happen like this,” she says as the headline changes to _AT LEAST TEN PRESUMED DEAD_. “The bomb squad guy was the only one who died.” She feels bad, she can’t even remember his name.

“Really?” Amelia raises an eyebrow. “A homemade bazooka explodes in a hospital and only one guy dies?”

Addison opens her mouth to argue, explain that the entire area was evacuated, but the TV flickers again. She notices the date in the corner, three days after the bomb.

“I’m sorry,” Amelia says.

“For what?”

“Doing this the hard way.”

She’s suddenly hit by how sad Amelia looks. She turns back to the television. Richard stands in front of a bank of microphones, reading a statement; his voice shakes and he lifts his eyes from the paper just frequently enough to give the illusion of contact with the reporters crowded in front. _SGH CHIEF OF SURGERY SPEAKING ON BOMB FATALITIES_ , reads the footage caption. Addison looks over her shoulder at Amelia, still standing motionless and expressionless behind her.

She’s been trying to ignore the direction her mind has been going for the past five minutes, and she misses the first few names Richard reads after finishing the statement. But one name snaps her attention back to the broadcast.

_“Doctor Addison Forbes Montgomery-Shepherd, neonatal surgeon.”_

The television turns off, leaving the practice deafeningly silent.

“No,” Addison says. “No. No, I’m not dead. This is my brain freaking out because of a lack of oxygen, concussion, anything. I…I…I am not dead.” She hears herself pitching into hysteria.

Amelia takes a step forward. “Addison, give me Henry.”

Addison holds her son closer. “No. I’m not dead, we’re not dead.” She looks at the ceiling. “Wake up, please!”

“You’re freaking out,” Amelia says calmly, “let me hold him for you.”

“Why did the TV say I’m dead? Why would my subconsciousness say that? That makes no sense.” Henry wakes up from his snoozing, unsettled by his mother’s panic, and whimpers. She tries to shush him, but refuses to hand him over to Amelia. She doesn’t know what’s happening, but she does know that her son is not going anywhere near the woman who just showed her a fake news broadcast of her death.

Amelia yawns and starts to look a little annoyed.

Addison takes a deep breath and a stillness surrounds her. She stands in front of Amelia. “Why does Richard think I’m dead?” 

Amelia blinks. “Because you are.” At Addison’s silent frown, she throws her hands in the air. “You’re still going to fight this?” Every screen in the practice turns on, showing footage of Addison’s life. “Does this make _any_ sense to you?” She walks backward, pointing at a computer screen. “Unstable homemade bomb blows up in a hospital, only one guy dies.” She points at the TV. “Miranda Bailey goes through a nine-month pregnancy, gives birth, and Meredith Grey’s internship year still lasts another eight months?”

She starts to circle the practice as the silent footage jumps from screen to screen. “You move into a house magically right next to Sam. Izzie has sex with a dead guy. Violet has her baby violently ripped out of her, and she actually survives? Seattle Grace deals with a bomb, a ferryboat crash, a shooter, and a plane crash in the span of what, two years? And it seems like seven to you? Bailey’s kid is never the right age, when she remembers him at all. Your brother gets a brain parasite, you learn your mother is a lesbian and then she kills herself after her partner dies of cancer.”

“Stop,” Addison says.

Amelia doesn’t listen. “Heather blows up herself and her house trying to cook meth on the stove, leaving Betsy in the care of Dell, who dies as a result of an overlooked bleed that happened when a drunk driver crashed into his car while he was driving an in-labor Maya to the hospital. Callie and her baby very nearly die in a car crash and you’re the only one who can save them.”

“Stop, please.” Her breath is shallow in her chest, but she can’t tear her eyes away from the screen.

“Pete, the healthiest guy on the planet, dies of a heart attack while out running? George got hit by a bus and died after enlisting in the army, Izzie got cancer and ran away so she’s probably dead too. Mark died. Come on, Addison. Did you ever stop to think that maybe all this was a little much to really be happening around you?”

“Stop it!”

“I died ten years ago, Addison!”

Addison’s breath catches in her throat and she stumbles. Henry starts to cry.

“I ODed,” she says, softer. The screens are black again. “Remember? They never brought me back.”

Addison shushes Henry and rubs his back, gently bouncing him. “None of this is real? None of these people are real?”

“Everyone’s real. Charlotte, Cooper, Violet, Sheldon. They were real. They’re just dead. Figuring things out before they can move on.”

“Naomi and Sam?”

“Them…you made up. You knew them in life, but your mind needed to create them for you, so this place would be easier. They’re still alive. So’s Maya.”

“Derek?”

Amelia points to the TV, showing Richard’s press conference again.

_“And Derek Shepherd, neurosurgeon. Hospital press liaisons will be handling your questions, thank you.”_

She takes a deep breath and can’t control the shudder. “What about Mark?” She doesn’t know what she wants Amelia’s answer to be.

“Oh, the plane crash is the one thing that actually happened. He’s dead.”

She blinks, unsure whether she’s glad for that or not. “And, uhm. Henry? Did I make him up or is he…” She presses a kiss to his temple, unable to even fathom the concept.

“Does it matter?”

It does, to Addison, it matters very much, but she’s glad that Amelia isn’t answering that question. He coos and settles against her again, no longer on the verge of a full screaming attack. “Why now? Why now after all of…” she gestures at the blank screens, “that?”

“You found what you were looking for.” Amelia looks at Henry. “Your mind was going to stay here until you finished your journey. You’re ready to go now.”

“What about everyone else?”

“Most of them were staying for you. They found their happy, and they watched you find yours. They’ve moved on.”

As much as asking about Henry and Mark hurt, her next question aches. “Jake?”

Amelia shakes her head and can do nothing but watch as Addison sniffles and tries to hold back tears. “We all have our roles to play, Addison. Jake still has work to do,” she says softly.

“Then why?” She wipes at the tears on her cheeks, her voice thick. “You say I found what I was looking for and he can’t even come with me? What was the point?”

“You weren’t looking for Jake. You were looking for Henry.” As if on cue, Henry lifts his head and waves his fist at Amelia. She smiles at him. “What you felt for each other is real, but he can’t leave. Not right now.”

She sniffs and looks at the ceiling, biting her lip. “None of this is real.”

“It’s in your head. Doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

She exhales sharply and looks back at Amelia. “Why are you here? Why are you my afterlife guide…person?”

“Shepherd,” Amelia shrugs.

“Oh,” she breathes. “Can I stay? Choose not to go wherever I’m supposed to go now that I’ve found what it is I’m looking for?”

“This is entirely your world, Addison. You created this,” she gestures to the practice around them, meaning everything. “But everyone else is gone. Naomi and Sam were constructs, and the others have moved on because they thought you were ready. Jake won’t be here, and it’s already starting to fall apart.”

Addison looks around for signs of truth to Amelia’s words. Parts of the practice that were lit before are now hidden by impenetrable darkness. The sun’s no longer shining outside, but she can see stars through the windows. “Now what?”

Amelia smiles and the practice darkens until the only lights shine on her and Addison, with a path to the elevator. “Get on the elevator. Go down.” At Addison’s wide eyes, she explains. “That’s not a metaphor for anything, I promise. Your mind still thinks you’re in a building, you need to go down to leave. You’ll know what to do from there.”

Addison hesitates. “I’ll miss you.”

Amelia hugs Addison and kisses the top of Henry’s head. “You’ll see me again. I have a few things to do first.” She steps back.

Addison waves from the elevator. Amelia stands in a single circle of light, which disappears just as the doors close. 

She closes her eyes and leans against the railing.

“Took you long enough.”

Her eyes flash open and she looks around for another remnant of her life. Finding none, she tries to place the voice. “…Tilly?”

“You got it, kiddo.”

“I wondered where you went.”

“Your mind wrote me out, I was too much; gonna break the illusion before you were ready. But I saw everything. Glad you got the little one finally.”

Addison remembers that moment in the elevator, when she first came to LA, crumpled on the floor with her knees to her chest. “Yeah. Me too.” She kisses Henry’s cheek.

The elevator door opens, revealing the empty lobby.

“Go,” Tilly says softly. “You’ll be okay.”

Addison steps out of the elevator. “But what do I,” she turns back and finds nothing where there once was an elevator, “do,” she finishes quietly. Remembering Amelia’s guidance, she takes a deep breath and pushes the building doors open, stepping out into the night.

She looks upward at the stars sparkling across the sky. She hasn’t seen stars like this in years. When she looks back at the street, the Emerald City Bar is on the corner in front of her. The bar’s lit from the inside with bright white light; she can’t see inside but knows, somehow, that she’s supposed to go there.

The door opens, light spilling out onto the curb, and a figure walks out. 

“Hey, Red,” he says.

Her breath catches in her throat. “Mark?”

He grins, lopsided and cheeky. “In the flesh. Well, sort of.”

She sighs, but can’t find it in herself to be annoyed by his cockiness, not now. She smiles instead. She’s missed him, more than she allowed herself to realize.

He smiles at Henry and takes her other hand. “You ready?”

Addison turns to him, interlacing her fingers with his. Henry settles against her, truly calm for the first time tonight. “Yeah. I’m ready.” She squeezes Mark’s hand. 

He opens the door and she squints into the light, hearing snippets of conversation; voices both familiar and not. She steps forward and the light and warmth envelops her. As the door closes behind them, her world fades to white. 

But Mark’s hand is solid and real in hers, and Henry is solid and real against her. She thinks she hears a girl giggle.

**Author's Note:**

> [soundtrack](http://8tracks.com/koolaidfree/lady-stardust)


End file.
